Risin' Again
by Zurmdragon
Summary: After Miranda, the Independents are stirring. Mal and the crew find themselves in the old fight, while Commander Harken questions the Alliance and one of River's classmates hunts her.
1. Rendezvous

Disclaimer: Firefly is not mine.

Dedicated to my beta, hoperules.

Ch. I: Rendezvous

Inara had vanished, claiming that this was a private moment.

Intellectually, River understood what a 'private moment' was, but the concept hadn't translated into reality for…a long time. She could hear everything, sometimes, every thought, clean or dirty, twisted or sane. They invaded her very being, often to the point where she couldn't tell if the thoughts were hers or not. Privacy, for River Tam, was not real.

Besides, she wanted to see how her brother would screw up this time.

The setting was ripe for it: high-class restaurant, expensive food, and best laid plans. It was only a matter of time before Simon said something stupid.

The pair was laughing about something that really wasn't funny, and then Simon's face suddenly settled into a sappily serious expression.

"Kaylee, there's something important I need to say."

River rolled her eyes. Creativity hit her brother in flashes, and never in the area of romance.

"I know things have been hard. With everything." He grinned a little sadly. "I mean, Inara had to get us in here quietly, and we can't get work, and all that happened before...it's because of me, and I know it. My family thing."

Kaylee shook her head. "Aw, c'mon. We got through that stuff, we'll get through now. Everything's gonna be just shiny."

"I just wanted you to know it's okay if you refuse," Simon said, one hand going to a pocket. River shook her head as he hesitated. He knew, everyone knew, what Kaylee would answer. This would be the screw-up: never even asking.

He visibly took a deep breath and withdrew the box from his pocket, popping it open to reveal the glint of a small diamond. "Kaylee, will you marry me?"

River never heard the answer, because pain blossomed behind her eyes and pinned her against the pillar she hid behind. It was a thousand nightmare memories rolled into one—invasive, uncaring, coldly motivated—but entirely intangible. Icy green eyes in a pale gaunt face flashed in her mind's eye, and then dissolved into mental static.

She needed to get to _Serenity_. They had to get off Persephone.

- - - - - - -

"Is she here?"

Hunter focused on the reality before him, leaving off trying to reestablish the tentative link. "Yes."

The men nodded. It was as much as expected, less than desired. "Get search teams going. Be quiet. We don't need to stir the pot any more."

Hunter slipped off as specifics were given. He had already calculated all the probabilities they were just now coming up with.

It was time to live up to his name.

- - - - - - -

"Place smells like a ruttin' dump."

It did, but considering the suspicious glares of the dump-people, that might not have been the wisest thing to say. "Jayne," Mal warned. They needed this job, and so help him, he'd shoot Jayne dead right then and there if he made a mess of this meeting.

The Alliance had made things difficult after Miranda. Almost every trusted contact they had was dead and gone thanks to that horror. The remaining few were even more difficult to find. Every crime _Serenity_ had been involved in for the last two years seemed to have surfaced on every semi-civilized planet's radar.

He did not want to do this job. Didn't want to starve, either, and that was the thing.

Mal refocused his attention to the task at hand. Anticipation only made it worse.

No one looked up when they entered The Junkyard Dog. It was quiet compared to most bars. A man with a guitar strummed quietly in one corner, while most people just sat, either alone or muttering to a friend. "Sad old drunks. Maybe," Jayne muttered, "Don't like this."

Mal scanned the small crowd, looking for someone out of place.

"Heya, Captain!" A hand slapped Mal's shoulder, making him jump. The scruffy kid grinned at him, but his muddy eyes were serious. "Shad, bring your best for me an' my buddy here! An' his man! Sit, an' let's talk about gettin' me outta this dump."

Mal let himself be led to a table against the wall. This boy must be their contact. He was either smarter than he talked, or one rowdy backwater brat.

The kid sat and placed his hands on the table, casually, letting Mal and Jayne know that he wasn't going to go for a gun. He looked like a young pickpocket or small-time conman: fingerless gloves, mud-colored jacket, dusty and stained shirt. "Mike at your service," he said, speaking quietly, "He told me to look for someone in one of the old coats, and I pray to God you're him."

Smarter than he talked, then. Mal nodded. "Malcolm Reynolds, captain of a transport ship. Hope you're not trying to be quiet."

Mike waved it off. "That? I've been doing that for a year. Annoying, loudmouth kids aren't worth any attention, really." The bartender stopped by and sat three drinks down. Mike favored him with a stupid grin of thanks, getting a shake of the head in return, then looked back at Mal as the man walked off. "See?" He took a drink, cool as ice. "So you need a job…or not. Your name's familiar, Captain."

"That's all in the past. What have you got for_ pay_?"

"I mean it when I say I want off Persephone, and I can pay well."

"No more passengers," Jayne growled, "We don't need any more weird folk runnin' around."

Mal smirked with a touch of sorrow. He didn't need any more people dying for his stupid mistakes, either. "He's right. Anything more in the transporting cargo category?"

"Most of that's contracted." The kid tapped the clay mug thoughtfully. "There's one...you won't like it."

Mal leaned forward. "There are seven mouths to feed on my boat. My crew is closer to starving than they know. I'm hoping that my ship doesn't decide to die on me halfway between here and wherever. I never wanted to touch this gorram business again. But here I am."

Mike looked at Mal for a moment, then dropped his eyes and nodded. "Take weapons to a group of us on Ariel," he whispered, "We've gotten them this far, but no haven't found a way to move them further yet."

"What do ya need weapons for on a Core world?" Jayne asked, "Fast way to get arrested."

"Which is why he wants us to do it for him." Mal relaxed and gave Mike some breathing room. "Go on."

"You know how things have been since that broadcast last month. It was the kick in the pants that the Browncoats needed." The term gave Mal a sort of spiritual jolt; Mike said it like a still living cause, not some name on the tombstone of history. "And it came back to bite us. We got too trigger happy and attempted to blow the Alliance's pretty _Galileo_ out of the sky. In the Core."

"Didn't go so well, I take it."

Mike snorted and shook his head. "No. The bombs were too weak to kill a cruiser, though they killed a few of the crew. And most of ours were caught. Since that mistake, they've been cracking down on us in there. It's firearms you'd be taking, to defend the others until things are done on Ariel."

Mal nodded. "What do I need to know?"

"Half paid here—I'll send it to your ship along with the cargo and rendezvous point. Half paid on delivery. Good, oh, three-thousand platinum on each side." Jayne stared wide-eyed, and Mal couldn't help but be impressed. They had someone helping on the financial side of things, and a lot of doubts about this little operation. "You'll have to talk our admiral once you get there. He's hard to miss. He'll pay you every last coin."

"Well, no worse than some of the things we've done. You know where to find my boat?"

The kid grinned. "I know a lot about the people I deal with. It's an interesting name for a ship, _Serenity_." He started tapping his mug again before getting up to leave, slipping easily into his act. "I'd best get goin', Captain. Got things to pack an' all."

"I bet. See you at the ship." Mal and Jayne watched Mike leave to be loud and annoying and a liar with a cause.

- - - - - - -

Zoë was sitting in the cargo bay, eyeing a large, recently delivered crate with suspicion. An overt paranoia had set in this month, not long after Simon had informed her that the pregnancy tests had been positive. Whether the feeling had mental or physical roots, River had no idea.

"Ready to take off?" Zoë asked, not looking up. Her hand rested gently on her abdomen, with the other on her gun, and River added a tally to the 'mental cause' column.

"As soon as they come back, we leave." And good thing—the other, those awful green eyes, had grown distant since she'd reached Serenity, but she could still feel them.

A quick pattern of knocks sounded against the door, the beat of an obscure drinking song. Zoë peered through the window, nodded, and let the Captain in. "Crate came a few minutes ago, sir, with a note addressed to you."

River noted the quick, somewhat forlorn gaze he gave the note before he picked it up. He was a man standing at the edge of something great, not sure that he wanted to plunge in. But there really wasn't any other way to go, was there?

They'd been through lots of times like these, bottlenecks of history, where the possibilities and choices narrow down to one, where the path becomes set…

The spot between her shoulders suddenly started itching madly, cutting off her musing. Which was good, really, because the Captain was speaking. "Just a drop-off of some banned goods to the Core, on Ariel. Shouldn't take too long." He turned to River. "Ready to fly, little Albatross?"

It always flattered River—and logically it shouldn't—when he bothered to address her by that nickname, an old symbol of good fortune. He thought her _important_. "I just need to set the course for Ariel and take her up."

"You do that. Jayne, help me stow this." Zoë's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. The Captain had been treating her like a semi-invalid since he'd learned of her pregnancy. He'd asked if she wanted to leave the ship, if she wanted to live on a pleasant planet at least until the baby was born. He was only worried about Zoë's and the baby's health. And feeling a little guilty about Wash on top of that. Zoë knew all this, of course, so she ignored his annoying behavior.

The itching intruded on her thoughts again, but River managed to push through it long enough to get to the cockpit, plot a course, and start the pre-take off diagnostic. Then she proceeded to scratch her back against the pilot's seat.

"River, I know you've got all sorts of smarts in that genius brain of yours, but it'd be nice to get in the air before sun up," the intercom crackled. Right, they had to get going, especially with hot cargo, a bottleneck, and those cold green eyes still floating in her mind.

- - - - - - -

Hunter watched _Serenity_ take off. He'd tagged her with a sophisticated little tracking device perfect for this mission. The tiny machine would be hard to find by sight or sensor, though River might already know it was there. She was a better psychic than he. The stabilization process had done him many favors, but had also severely weakened his extrasensory perception skills.

"Gorram it, they're gone," one of the team muttered, coming up behind Hunter, "Weren't you on her tail?"

"She can feel me coming before I know she feels me. I tagged the ship."

"So we can find her no matter what. Good going. Let's get off of this _luh-suh_ rock. We've got a rendezvous with the _Tiber_."

Hunter felt the man leave, but stood watching _Serenity_ for a few moments more.

He wished he could fly away like that.


	2. Purple Bellies

Disclaimer: Firefly is not mine.

A/N: Sorry to be so late in this; I got caught up in Halo 3.

- - - - - - -

II. Purple Bellies

The UAV _Tiber_ was leaving the Rim for supplies and repairs, and Commander Harken found himself regretting it. He had a duty to perform at this end of space, one his superiors would never assign him, especially not now.

The Reavers were getting bolder, moving further into human territory, striking more frequently. He'd reported this fact, like almost every other border commander, but he never received a response from Central Command. As far as anyone in the Core had cared, Reavers didn't exist.

Then the Miranda Broadcast came, and now everyone knew those godforsaken monsters did exist. But there would still be nothing from the Alliance.

"They made them, after all." Aloud, it seemed more real. In his head, it felt like a bad dream, but of course it wasn't. "The Alliance made the Reavers, in an effort to maintain control over the populace of Miranda. An experiment. All for the sake of bringing further order to a universe of chaos and brutality." Hard to believe, that not too long ago, he'd thought that was a worthy goal. Now he wasn't so sure.

His office's intercom suddenly emitted static for thirty seconds, one of the results of a year's continuous patrol with no maintenance. "Commander, the Intel team has arrived on board."

Harken tapped a button on his desk to reply. "Do they want anything?" Intelligence people tended to be demanding, commandeering equipment and personnel without giving a reason.

"Access to our secure communications link and to be left alone, sir."

"Very well then. Grant them access." Somehow that simple request managed to be unnerving.

There was not a military officer alive who did not hate the Bureau of Intelligence. Intel had not been of much use since the war. These days, Harken was willing to bet all of its work involved destroying political dissent; it had been Intel that had tried to quiet Miranda Broadcast stirrings, declaring it fake on the Cortex, telling military officers to reassure their crew that it was fake.

Harken, however, could not lie to those under his command. It was too dishonest. Dishonest to his people, dishonest to the memory of innocent Miranda, dishonest to that woman who had been raped, skinned, and eaten alivein that recording. He wondered if his integrity had lead to the beginnings of treasonous thought on the _Tiber_.

He sighed as he pulled a list of supplies up on the screen. The sooner the Intel team was gone, the better.

- - - - -

Hunter drifted silently back through the team. The leader, the 'handler', assumed that, since all Hunter remembered was his Academy training and his work for the Alliance, there would be very little 'handling' involved in the job. The man often let Hunter out of his sight, allowed the teen to operate based on his own conclusions.

That supposition could be the man's ruin, not that Hunter cared. He was going to finish this mission, and the rest of the team was dead weight.

The other six didn't notice him, partly because he wanted it that way and partly because they never wanted to. He drifted to the back of the group, then a yard behind, then another, and another, until they had walked around a corner and out of sight.

Fear made him stop in his tracks. Once, he watched one of his classmates attempt a trick like this during a mission. She was caught and taken back to the Academy. The girl had returned a drone, incapable of real problem solving. She could only make calculations.

Hunter could not push the fear aside, so he pushed through it instead. He wanted to complete this mission, to remove the threat of River Tam, more than he wanted to be afraid.

The fear didn't shrink, but it no longer froze him in place or clouded his reasoning. As unobtrusively as possible, Hunter walked calmly and quickly back to where the ship had docked. The soldiers at the door let him pass without comment or suspicious glance. Sometimes it was good to wear Intel black and scare people.

He took care of the computers immediately. No system in the Alliance had beaten him yet, and the _Tiber_'s didn't even put up a fight. He made sure it would not detect the Intel ship's takeoff.

The Intel ship was engineered for stealth and speed, so all he had to do to stay hidden was simply switch off the pulse beacon and change the communication channel, tasks he complete in minutes. They couldn't find him now.

Hunter smiled as he disengaged the ship. Nothing could stop him.

- - - - - - -

"Commander!"

Harken turned, and found a tall man in black rushing towards him, pushing his way through the bustling bridge. Intel. Best to simply comply with whatever he wanted and get it done with. "Yes?"

"Find my ship and stop that freak! Destroy it, disable it, I don't care!"

The hysteria in the man's voice threw Harken off a little. Intel people were always inhumanly calm in his experience. This situation had to be very, very bad. "Nav-stat, are there any other ships around us?" They were several hours out from Persephone on a course directly to the repair and resupply station. Space should be dead.

The young man at the console shook his head. "No, sir."

"It's a stealth ship," the Intel man muttered, stomping his way to the communications station. He shoved the woman working there out of the way and input something. "That should—what?" He turned back to Harken, eyes wide and frantic. "You have to look."

Harken had a deadline to keep—being late wasn't an option at Hephaestus Station, as it could set things back for days—and he did not like Intel agents. "I can't. The _Tiber_ must be on time. My orders are to transport you and aide you with communications. Not to give you command of my ship."

"Then at least give me a transport so my team can find him on our own!"

If he did that, Harken would have the station's logistics people at his throat for leaving something so large as a transport ship off their resupply request. "No. You can leave from Hephaestus. I can't spare a transport. This ship has its own missions to complete."

The man's jaw tightened, and he glared. "You will pay for this."

Harken paid him no heed. What more could the higher-ups do to him? He was already doing border patrol, having his concerns completely ignored. He couldn't imagine a tougher job.

- - - - - - -

A/N: This is important, I swear, and we're going right back to the crew.


	3. Tangled

Disclaimer: Firefly is not mine.

- - - - - - -

III. Tangled

Inara refused to laugh at the dress. It was the antithesis of elegance, some small girl's conception of a Companion's clothing. Gaudy pink embroidery ran rampant over the bodice, while the sleeves were fluffy to the point of hindering arm movement. The milk white skirt looked as if it could cover _Serenity_'s back end.

"Kaylee," Inara said, "I don't think it suits the occasion." Or any occasion, person, or animal that ever existed. "Try on the one I picked out."

The mechanic looked down at her skirt. "It is awful hard to move in. If somethin' comes up, I don't think I could get any necessary work done on Serenity." She turned back around to the fitting room, somehow squeezing the skirt inside.

Inara sighed and began to wander around, blankly looking at the wedding dresses displayed in the Triplex shop. Kaylee would be several minutes.

Life had been frustrating since she'd come back. She did what she could, cooked, consoled, chatted, gave advice, moved things, whatever useful task that she could find. But it wasn't much. Miranda haunted her dreams, Mal's grim eyes pulled at her heartstrings, and her uselessness was eating at her soul.

She stopped wandering, and wondered again why she had come back. He'd offered to drop her back at the training house. There were things by the hundreds she could do there, useful things.

It had been a last minute decision. Between Miranda and…Mal, she could admit it to herself now…she couldn't live the same life anymore. How could she live as a Companion, loyal to the Guild that was loyal to the Alliance? How could she live…no, she couldn't go there. That was a wall too long standing to tear down in an instant, and he didn't trust her anyway.

And now Armen Chiasm had made an unwelcome reappearance in her life. He had sent her a wave shortly before _Serenity_ left Persephone. He'd made an offer much like Atherton's, but refusal could have much more terrible ramifications. Ramifications like _Serenity_ being blown out of the sky by an Alliance cruiser.

Looking back, it had been infinitely stupid to become the favored Companion of a member of Parliament back on Sihnon.

"'Nara, that'd be a great dress for you!" Kaylee called.

Inara glanced at the window she stood in front of, where a mannequin stood in a sleek, sleeveless white silk bodice, with a red skirt billowing out elegantly. She stared at it for a moment, haunted by childhood dreams of a very different and perhaps happier life, and then turned to Kaylee with a smile. "That looks gorgeous on you." Kaylee wore a very simple, adorable white dress, one that would allow her to move in a potential emergency. "I was thinking a pink bouquet…"

- - - - - -

After they traveled to a relatively rich slum, Mal and Jayne found the apartment building mentioned in Mike's note. They used Mike's name to get in and proceeded through a maze of halls until they reached a central room, where they were asked to wait.

And wait is what they did for three _gou tsao de_ hours.

The unpleasantness of the situation wasn't helped by the fact that the building was nothing but barren concrete, without so much as a box to sit on. Mal had been through much worse, but it was just another little aggravation he didn't need.

Mal glanced over at Jayne. For the better part of the wait, the mercenary had been sitting in a corner, on the floor, with a ten year old helping him read the Bible. At least he'd found something to keep him out of trouble.

Hopefully this would be quick. They needed that money to pay for repairs and food. And they needed to get away from this mess before the war caused the sky to fall down on them all over again.

He'd be damned if was going to drag people with so much in their futures into something noble and doomed like this mess. Zoë had already lost Wash to this same cause and she was now carrying his child. Simon and Kaylee had just announced their engagement. River had shaken off the ghosts that haunted her, finally beginning a life all her own. Jayne was Jayne, which didn't really mean much as far as 'potential' went. Inara…

Mal didn't understand Inara. He didn't know why she stayed after Miranda, on a ship that was bound to hard times, with a crew about as uncouth as a pack of wild dogs, instead of going back to be a Companion. Whatever her reasons _he_ was glad that she stayed, even though they bickered. Things seemed…more right, with Inara around. Missing rib, or something like that. He didn't want her to get mixed up in a war, especially a war where she might have trouble choosing sides.

But the old cause still called to him. It had been calling since he had decided to show the 'verse what had happened on Miranda. He could have run, but he didn't. Why? The answer scared him. Maybe he'd started to hope again.

A soldierly teen boy appeared suddenly, grinning apologetically. "Sorry for the delay, Captain Reynolds. I'll take you to the Admiral right away."

- - - - - -

It was a most unremarkable half-sphere. No lights, no antennae, nothing but plain metal.

River smiled to herself. If it weren't for the fact that it had been making her back itch for a week, she would say that it belonged on _Serenity_'s hull.

She flung it out into the busy docks, where it was crushed by the wheels of a large cargo hauler. River wasn't clear on what the thing had been. Likely either some sort of latent sabotage instrument or a tracking device. Possibly, but not likely, a bizarre form of smuggling. The green eyes flashed in her mind. Whatever it had been, it was no longer a problem.

She climbed back down into the ship, quite content. It was very quiet today, with the Captain and Jayne off to finish the job and Inara and Kaylee out shopping. Zoë had stayed behind to watch over Simon and get her checkup. It was a pleasant change from the past few weeks.

Zoë was sitting outside the infirmary when River checked to see how it was going. Simon was nowhere to be seen; he was probably trying to catch up on his sleep, as he was not sleeping when he should be these days. "All clear?" River asked Zoë.

The older woman nodded. "Four months old." She smiled fondly at a ghost. "I remember, after we robbed the bank…" She shook her head and looked directly at River, pragmatic and tough as ever. "Captain should get back soon. Things have been heating up, and it is worse here on the central planets."

"And our job."

There was a barely noticeable pause. "And that."

River cocked her head. "You don't worry about 'that'."

"I should." Zoë sighed and stood. "Shouldn't be long. I'm going to see about the cost of some decent food."

River retrieved the notebook she'd hidden nearby as Zoë left. "The calm before the storm," she muttered to herself, flipping to her most recent drawing.

She'd covered the page in pairs of cold green eyes.

- - - - - -

Mal was led into a large room and, apparently, a large meeting. "…salvage something from the Galileo, so help me," a tall man was telling the rest of the group. He was much older than most of the people Mal had seen so far, older than Mal himself was by a few years, in fact. Both the man's hair and eyes were the same steel gray. Everything about him was military: posture, stance, voice, presence, everything. All this seemed dimly familiar.

"You have jobs to do. Go do them," the man finished. The meeting broke up, and he turned to Mal's guide. "Thank you, Kash. See if you can help in communications. The signal hasn't been holding steady." When the young man left, the older one turned to Mal. "I don't believe we ever met, Captain, as I was strictly a naval commander." He held out a hand. "Sherman Hanson, Admiral to some."

Mal shook the hand, remembering who exactly the man was. Admiral Hanson had been one of the Alliance's before the war, but had defected and become the Independent's best and only experienced naval commander. From what Mal could remember, he'd disappeared in the Battle of Sturges, assumed dead, like most of the others in that rout. "We gave the cargo to a few of your boys," Mal said, "Did our part."

Hanson nodded. He tossed a heavy, clinking bag to Mal, then sat behind a desk that was once a large shipping crate. "You probably know what kind of firepower was in that crate, knowing Mike's honor code. I'd be much obliged if you didn't even hint at its existence."

Mike had indeed left a listing of the weapons being transported, but Mal didn't see what was so impressive about the tiny collection. "Personal firearms, few flash-bangs, nothing particularly illegal in there. Alliance has worse problems."

"And I thank you for that." Mal blinked quickly in surprise. "It's different in the Core. The worst problems are never fixed, just ignored, wounds left to fester. But when it comes to making people be 'good', as they define it, they're willing to break people." Hanson shook his head, pulling a battered shred of paper from the chaos that dominated the crate-desk. "So, what next for you and your ship?"

Mal started a bit at the question. "Well, this money will last us a bit. After, we'll see what comes our way."

"It's going to be tough," Hanson noted, "Your reputation precedes you and most of your more reliable friends are dead…though I can help you out."

Mal knew everything Hanson said was true. Maybe it would be good to take another job from these new Browncoats. The money was good, and Mal's other options were limited. He just had to make sure their involvement stayed professional. He didn't ant to get tangled up in a spider's web again. "You offering me a job?"

"I have a task I think your crew can handle."

"What's the pay?"

"Twelve thousand."

That was the kind of offer couldn't refuse. "You folk certainly do pay well. Must be important."

"There's a computer file that's traveling with a Commander Synchis. He was in charge of the Galileo, but now he runs the major military base on Bellerophon. His duties involve attending large, expensive parties and seducing beautiful women. All the other details are in here." He held up an envelope to Mal. "When you get the file, deliver it to Mike, who will meet you on Persephone. Then he'll pay you."

Mal glanced from envelope to man. "Just how much do you know about me?"

"You and your crew were responsible for the Miranda broadcast, a disruption at St. Lucy's, and the escape of the Tam fugitives. Beyond that, I only know what veterans and criminals can tell."

Mal snatched the envelope and left the complex quickly, grabbing Jayne on the way out, not entirely sure what he'd just gotten into.

Whatever it was, he could handle it. He had to. There wasn't anything else.

- - - - - -

Hunter followed the Captain and his hired gun into their ship. They didn't notice him, though the mercenary looked around nervously, as if he sensed something. Hunter made sure to keep his distance, even in the belly of _Serenity_.

The tracker had been removed earlier that day, but not soon enough to keep him from ship. Getting inside unnoticed had been a slight challenge.

He found _Serenity_ to be a battered hulk inside and out. She was small and didn't possess the computer systems found on newer ships, but he could fly her well enough once River Tam was eliminated.

Strange how quickly he gave it a name and a gender. Something about this heap of metal and ragtag engineering was endearing.

"River, set a course for Bellerophon," the Captain called into an old intercom, "We've got a bit of thinking work ahead of us."

"We'll be ready in a minute," a female voice answered. River Tam's voice.

Hunter settled behind some crates. He'd strike in space, when they weren't expecting it, and end his prey.


	4. A Bit of a Ruckus

Disclaimer: Firefly is not mine.

- - - - - - -

IV. A Bit of a Ruckus

Mal liked nights aboard _Serenity_, when the crew was asleep. He liked how it felt. The ship was the only place in the universe. Everything else, the horrors, the worries, the failures, the needs, they didn't exist. It was just him and his boat.

And Inara, at the moment. He heard her voice in the shuttle as he walked past. Why that woman found it necessary to stay awake at all hours of the night escaped him, but it offered an opportunity for some fun at her expense. He needed it. It was hard to shake the feeling that things were about to get more complicated than he'd bargained for.

He found her on the Cortex, her back turned to him. "Didn't know you were still looking for clients," Mal commented, moving to peer over her shoulder.

She pulled the curtain over the console and turned to glare at him. "It's none of your business."

Mal was prone to object to that, so he didn't acknowledge her protest. "You _have_ been dancing around something lately."

"It's just some ancient history." She fixed him with a brutal, no-nonsense glare. "None of your—"

The door suddenly slammed shut, followed by a loud 'thump'.

Mal rushed over to open it, yanking at it with everything he had. He turned to Inara. "_Tzao gao_. Locked."

- - - - - -

"There you are," River said, watching the intruder finish with Inara's door, "I knew something was wrong."

He turned and vaulted over the railing to land right in front of her. She pulled back half a step at the sight of his icy green eyes. "River Tam." His voice held satisfaction, nothing else. "I'm going to kill you."

River felt a flutter of fear, but reason soon dispelled it. They had been trained by the same people—and she had always been the best. "You're going to try."

He lashed out, but she had already ducked, sweeping his feet out from under him. He caught himself and pushed back to his feet, throwing an uppercut at her as he rose.

River saw the blow coming and backed off. It caught her, though not as hard as he'd meant it to. He went for her neck during her split second recoil. A desperate kick threw him back.

They circled each other, looking for the single misstep that would spell the other's end.

It was a stalemate, the calmer part of River noted, surrendering pride. He had the same enhancements, perhaps more. Their brains had been modified to enable greater muscle control and access to strength that others had only in times of adrenaline-induced panic. River thought he might have an improved reaction time, too, one that wasn't based on predictions.

Green eyes crossed brown and both combatants froze.

It was like wires had crossed, wires that really should not have been crossed. He was in her head and she was in his and in her own and it _hurt_. Everything he was swept through her brain.

"Cage," she muttered, "That's how you live. Caged!"

He—Hunter, his make and model—let a hostile growl tear its way from his throat and swung his fist at her unthinkingly, trying to stop the source of this bizarre pain. She caught his fist and nearly broke it, but she was so deep in his mind that she felt the pain as her own and couldn't continue to squeeze.

Blows were thrown almost blindly, lacking grace. Lashing out was the only way to stop this terrible connection, this invasion, but every hit landed hurt both of them.

- - - - - -

There was some strange kind of shame in being a self-proclaimed thief that had just been beaten in lock picking by a whore.

Not that her gift in that shady little skill had solved anything, but it was a touch embarrassing.

"If you had been more patient, and _thought_ before acting, Mal, I might have been able to open it," Inara told him, glaring from the opposite chair.

"And what exactly was I supposed to do? Knock?"

"It would have been an improvement over your usual style."

"My _usual_ style?"

"I'm surprised you didn't shoot the door," she continued, "or dislocate your shoulder when you tried to break it open."

Mal scrambled for his own side to this battle. "Well, you didn't help, sitting there like that."

"Like what?"

"Like some kind of lost princess. You think a man can focus on anything but you when you're in the room, playing your fine feminine charms all the while?"

"I wasn't trying to use my _charms_, Mal, I was trying to get you out of the room and out of my business!"

"Your business?" That was too easy; he couldn't resist. "Thought you were through with that."

To her credit, she wasn't at all indignant, which he'd half expected. "It's no concern of yours whether or not I decide to become an active Companion again. And the matter has no bearing on why we are trapped in my shuttle."

"'Course not. That would be the fault of your previously mentioned charms there. You could've just spoke plain and it all would have been shiny."

"I did speak plain. You could have been a bit gentler in dealing with the door, and I could have opened it!"

This was getting nowhere. From experience, Mal knew Inara wouldn't understand, and _he_ sure as hell knew it was her fault. "Listen, none of this is getting us out of this trap any sooner."

Grudgingly, Inara nodded. "Agreed."

"Good." And he shot the door, to no effect except sparks and ear-splitting noise.

"Mal!"

- - - - - -

Hunter mentally tugged on the connection, pulling desperately at it, as if trying to break a chain. Psychic connections were usually very easily severed, but this one remained despite his efforts. The links were stretching, but they were strong, and the bond itself hurt more every instant it held.

His brother would probably like to learn what physiological effects this struggle was having. But he didn't have a brother, he had no family…

"Who's who?" one of them asked aloud.

Hunter—what he thought was himself, anyway—began to sort through the memories and thoughts. It was a jumbled mess of two painful lifetimes.

That painful description was hers. The assassination was his. That warm fraternal embrace was hers. The Reaver slaughter, also hers, and Miranda's graveyard expanse…

The chain snapped, leaving both of them standing across form each other, frozen in surprise. Hunter was dimly aware of some purpose he had in being here, but the relief he was feeling was so great he couldn't focus.

"Not enough room in the mind for two people," River muttered.

Something about her voice caused Hunter's thoughts to come back together and rally to his mission. It felt hollow, for some reason, but it was what he had. He lunged for her, prepared to simply snap her neck.

She didn't move, though she clearly saw him. Her eyes seemed focused behind…

Pain exploded at the back of his skull, and everything went black.

- - - - - -

River started breathing again when Hunter fell at Jayne's feet. It seemed like Jayne had taken so horribly long to cross the hold and come to her rescue.

"Don't," she told the mercenary as he leaned in to break Hunter's neck.

Jayne shot her a confused look. "He was gonna kill ya."

She stared at the prone assassin as she tried to come up with an answer. Her own memories of their shared mental ordeal were confused, but his past, what little of one there was, was like her own, though stripped of family and comfort and freedom. Not that Hunter cared. Such things didn't occur to him. River mentally sighed and lifted her eyes to Jayne's, and gave him the Scary Look. "Just don't hurt him."

The fearful expression on his face almost made her laugh. "Fine, but if he moves, he's a dead one."

River just shrugged and raced up to let Mal and Inara out. They had been fighting a while, and she didn't want the Captain to die because of a misplaced word.

Hunter had placed some sort of compact mechanism on the door to keep it shut tight. River tore it off, and the door slid open quite easily. She noted the bullet hole with amusement.

"River!" Inara shouted.

The Captain stood up and steadied River, who hadn't noticed that she was indeed at the verge of collapse. "What happened?" he asked.

"An assassination attempt. I won." She grinned proudly.

"Mal, she wouldn't let me kill him!" Jayne called up, sounding like a whiny child. Oh, she loved these people, even the violent ape-man.

Mal stepped out of the shuttle to look down at Jayne and Hunter, then turned back to River. The seriousness of his glance, an unspoken query, ended her inexplicable exuberance.

"You didn't kill me," she told him, "So don't kill him."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. "Let's lock him up, then you'll tell me what's going on here."

River nodded, moving to look down at Hunter, prone on the ground.

"That could have been me," she told herself.


End file.
